


Disassociation

by kneephobic



Category: The Book of Mormon - Ambiguous Fandom, The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: F/M, Ghost!Connor AU, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, One-sided McBladely, Post-Canon, Side Arnolungi, Very very light side arnolungi, kind of???
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-14 20:09:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10543608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kneephobic/pseuds/kneephobic
Summary: “A ghost, Kevin! There was a ghost, and I'm not lying because I even saw it! He said his name was Connor McSomething, oh! McKinley! He died in, uh, 1967!”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Transparency](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6254095) by [turnitoffmckinley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/turnitoffmckinley/pseuds/turnitoffmckinley). 



> This is a sorta weird AU but i saw this one ghost fic that had only one chapter and I needed more. It's not really a happy fic and there's definitely a lot of talk about drugs and stuff so if you don't like that stuff be warned! I will be putting trigger warnings on each chapter so you can avoid it.
> 
> Thanks to turnitoffmckinley for the AU idea!!
> 
> tw: none

  Kevin Price sighed peacefully as he finally finished unpacking his last box. He had just moved to Logan to go to Utah State University. He was studying to become an elementary school teacher.

 

 He looked around. It was a cheap apartment, two (very small) bedrooms, one  bathroom, and a living room-kitchen combo room. He went to make himself some coffee, when he couldn't find the beans.

 

 “Arnold! Where are the coffee beans?” he yelled out.

 

 “I don't know! Maybe... aliens took them!” Arnold, who claimed his room as soon as they arrived, yelled back. Arnold had been in his room, decorating, the moment he claimed it. That left Kevin to unpack the rest of their stuff, which admittedly wasn't much.

 

 Kevin sighed, and started to search through the boxes, again, to no avail.

 

 He headed to Arnold’s room, and popped.his head through the door. He stared at the mess Arnold had already created; his action figures all over the hardwood floor, a tangle of wires by the unsturdy desk, a pile of rolled up posters on the bed, and two suitcases full of clothes that had been haphazardly dug through and shoved back in.

 

  “Um… I'm going to the store to get some coffee, I'll be back in half an hour, okay?”

 

  “Okay, best friend! I know you probably don't like this mess… I'll clean it up while you're gone! I promise!” Arnold _had_ been working on his… little problem, but technically that wasn't a lie _yet._

 

 “Yeah, sure. Be right back.” and with that, he turned on his heel and headed out the front door.

 

 As soon as Arnold heard the front door shut, he returned to what he was doing before.

 

 He arranged his Kirk and Spock figurines so they were facing each other, and touching hands. His Leonard McCoy figure was standing beside the two of them.

 

 “ _James Kirk, do you take Spock to be your lawfully wedded husband?”_ he made McCoy say in a fake voice.

 

 He lowered his voice even more, as he made Kirk say, “ _I do.”_ Arnold giggled to himself. He'd never admit it to Kevin, but he still loved to play with his figurines, and his favorite thing was to imagine different scenarios featuring Kirk and Spock.

 

 He stopped giggling when Spock toppled over.

 

 He just stared, until Kirk fell over too. His mind was racing, unusually scared. Arnold believed in ghosts, no matter how many times Kevin told him they didn't exist. He had often thought his old bedroom at his parents was haunted, but that was more _hoping_ it was haunted, just to prove Kevin wrong.

 

 He dug through the pile of posters on his bed, until he found his cell phone. He dialed Kevin’s number as fast as he could, and only dialed the wrong number twice.

 

 “Kevin! Best friend!” he shouted as soon as Kevin picked up the phone (in fact, he did this all three times, but the other two hung up almost instantly).

 

 “Yeah, what's up?” Kevin, being the great best friend that he was, could sense the concern in his voice.

 

 “I know you'll think I'm crazy, and that you won't believe me, but there's a ghost in our apartment!”

 

 “Is that all this is about? You, someone who struggles with compulsive lying, called me, someone who does _not_ believe in ghosts, to say that there's a ghost where I live? Arnold, why do you think I'd believe that?”

 

  “I'm sorry, but I promise I'm not lying! I was play-” he panicked for a second, desperately not wanting Kevin to find out about his hobby, “ _putting_ my action figures away, and Spock fell over. And then Kirk fell over too! I swear, I'm not making this up!”

 

 “Arnold, as much as I love you, I don't believe you. Remember that time, after we got back from our mission, when you told me your family got a dog, and I could come play with it? And then I got to your house, and there was no dog? This is exactly like that.”

 

 “But, Kevin! It's not, because I'm not lying this time!”

 

 “Arnold, I've gotta go, I've been craving coffee all day. I'll see you soon.”

 

 “Oh, alright. See you.”

 

 Arnold had an idea. He was going to prove Kevin wrong. He dug through a bag of miscellaneous electronics and pulled out an old, unused camcorder. He set it up on the desk, it's lense focused on a few action figures he placed on the desk, then sat on the bed and waited.

 

 He sat there for fifteen minutes, there was no sign of the ghost, or Kevin, for that matter.

 

 “Oh, so you like to play hard to get, huh?” he said, to the invisible entity he hoped was nearby.

 

 “Yes, definitely.” a new voice quietly whispered into Arnold’s ear.

 

 “Ah!” Arnold screeched, then looked in the direction the voice came from.

 

 He saw the translucent form of a boy, about his age. He was standing (possibly levitating?) beside Arnold’s bed, with a sly smile on his face. He had terribly dark under eye circles, and wore a dirty striped t-shirt, that looked like it was once light blue and white. His entire figure was made of dull colours, and his hair had a ginger tint to it.

 

 “I-oh my-you're a-I knew-Kevin is wrong!” he ran (well, clumsily flopped) to his desk to get the camcorder. He pointed it at the edge of his bed, but the boy was gone.

 

 “What… no!”

 

 “Right here.”

 

 He turned to see the boy, and not only did he face the boy, but his camera and some of his hand had gone _into his chest_. Arnold’s heart was racing and he was terrified. He wasn't even thinking about proving Kevin wrong anymore, he just wanted to have his life spared. He screamed and dropped the camcorder, jumped back and tripped on a suitcase.

 

 The boy bent over and picked up the camcorder, fiddled with it for a bit, then set it back down on desk.

 

 “Don't worry, it's not broken.” the boy says, “I've just deleted the video. At least, I hope I have. I'm still not sure how all this new technology works.”

 

 “Who-how? W-”

 

 “I'm gonna cut you off right there,” the boy laughed, “Yes, I am a ghost. No, you aren't crazy. At least, as far as I know, but I am real. I died in 1967, and my name is Connor McKinley.”

 

 Arnold fainted.

 


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: drug mention

 Kevin arrived home, with a little more than just the coffee beans in hand (he bought three boxes of cookies, they were on sale, how could he not?). He set his loot down on the counter, and noticed that Arnold hadn't come to say hi, or even shout from his room.

 

 Something was definitely wrong.

 

 He ran into Arnold's room and saw him with his torso sprawled across the bed, and his legs hanging off.

 

 “Arnold! Arnold wake up!” he was becoming increasingly worried by the second, and nearly called 911 when Arnold gasped, flapped his arms around, and fell off the bed.

 

 “Oh! Kevin! There- there was, a, a-”

 

 “Arnold, what happened? You- you fainted!”

 

 “A ghost, Kevin! There was a ghost, and I'm not lying because I even saw it! He said his name was Connor McSomething, oh! McKinley! He died in, uh, 1967!”

 

 “I don't care about this ‘ghost’” finger quotes included, “I care about why you fainted! You've eaten enough, right? Are you dehydrated?”

 

  “No, Kevin, I saw a ghost, and he talked to me, and I fainted because he was a _ghost_.” Arnold was getting irritated with Kevin, which didn't happen often, “Here, I even got a video!”

 

 Arnold stood up, and quickly fell back down after a wave of dizziness hit him. Kevin hurried over to Arnold’s side.

 

 “Are you okay? What was that?” Kevin was seriously concerned, and thought about actually calling 911.

 

 “Yeah, it was just, you know, being out for so long and moving so fast. Could you get the camera off the desk?”

 

 Kevin still didn't believe him about the ghost, but complied anyway.

 

 “Okay, look.” Arnold scrolled the pictures and videos, and the tiny sliver of hope that Connor didn't actually know what he was doing was crushed, “The bastard deleted it! He's from 1967! How does he know how to do that?”

 

 “Arnold, I think you should rest. You're probably dehydrated, and just imagined ‘Connor’. I'll get you some water, you lay down.” Kevin said, not even waiting for a reply before he cleared the bed and helped Arnold into it.

 

 Kevin left, and his eyes lingered worryingly on Arnold, who was already nearly asleep. He smiled. Arnold had a special talent: he could fall asleep anywhere, at anytime, almost instantly. Kevin finally left and retrieved Arnold's water, but stopped just outside his door.

 

 “He thinks I'm crazy! You've got to show him you're real.” Arnold whispered.

 

 Kevin’s hand slapped over his mouth, and his eyes were watering. His best friend was going crazy. His best friend was talking to _no one_.

 

 He timidly knocked on the wall beside the slightly ajar door.

 

 “ _Now!”_ he whispered, before he said in a regular volume, “Come in.”

 

 Even though Kevin _knew_ that Arnold didn't see anything, he was a little scared. He slowly shuffled into Arnold's room, and sighed a bit in relief that nothing was there, yet also scared that _nothing_ was there.

 

 “Here, get some rest,” he set the water down on the desk, “Goodnight, Arnold.”

 

 “Thanks. Goodnight, Kevin.”

 

 Kevin was just out the door when he heard Arnold call out.

 

 “I'm not crazy, I promise.”

 

 Kevin just sighed and went to his yet-to-be-unpacked room to dig out his laptop. He plopped onto his unmade bed and Googled: _symptoms of schizophrenia_

 

 Meanwhile, Arnold was in his room arguing with Connor.

 

 “What the hell? Why didn't you show him? He thinks I'm insane!” Arnold whisper-yelled, not wanting Kevin to hear him.

 

 “I will, but not yet. He's rather cute, though. Maybe I should talk to him…” Connor trailed off, lost in thought.

 

 “You think… he's cute? You think you two could… be together? No. No way.” Arnold just glared at Connor in disbelief.

 

 “Oh, he's straight isn't he? All the good ones are. Were. Whatever.” Connor looked a little disappointed, but he didn't have much hope to begin with.

 

 “No, he's bi, actually. But that's not the point! The point is that you're a _ghost_! Ghosts can't be with humans! That never turns out good in the movies, or on TV, or literally anywhere!” Arnold argued.

 

 Connor looked amused with this new information, “Yeah, well I haven't exactly been around to watch those.”

 

 Arnold just sighed, “Whatever. But you still need to show him so he knows I'm not crazy!” _And so he's wrong for once in his life,_ Arnold adds internally.

 

 “Fine, fine, I'll show him.” Connor complied much easier than Arnold thought he would.

 

 “You will? I mean, of course you will. Nobody argues with The Arnold and wins.” said Arnold with an air of false confidence that Connor could see right through.

 

 “Yes. In fact, I'll even do it right now!” and with that, Connor simply disappeared.

* * *

 

 “You think he has _schizophrenia?”_ a voice called out over Kevin’s shoulder, as if it were the most incredulous thing in the world.

 

 “What the fu-” Kevin turned to see the source of the voice, and paled instantly. His eyes widen and his jaw slacked.

 

  _This is it, we're both insane and I'm seeing things,_ thought Kevin.

 

 “Hey, I'm Connor, but I'm sure Arnold has told you lots about me already,” Connor said in a voice that was way too cheery for the situation.

 

 Kevin didn't- _couldn't_ do anything. He sat there in shock, attempting to process what he was or wasn't seeing.

 

 “Hello?” Connor waved his hand in front of Kevin’s face, even gave him a light slap (even though he kinda went _through_ Kevin, he was going to have to work on that).

 

 “I can't afford therapy. I'm going to sit in my cheap, crappy apartment and go crazy with my also crazy best friend,” Kevin said, mostly to himself.

 

  “That's ridiculous! You'd be going crazy with me, too,” Connor flashed a grin.

 

 “No, no, I won't. Because ghosts aren't real and I'm crazy and _you're_ not real,” Connor could tell he wasn't going to budge so easily. He worked up enough energy to become a somewhat solid entity, and then reached up to touch Kevin’s face, this time, not going through it at all.

 

  Kevin raised his hand and lightly whispered his fingers over Connor’s.

 

 “Oh my God,” he said, barely audible, “oh my _God_.”

 

 Connor pulled his hand back, weakened already. He hadn't become solid in years, he wasn't nearly as good as he used to be.

 

 “Sure you're crazy? ‘Cause I'm pretty sure I'm real, and I'm pretty sure you just touched my hand, and I'm pretty sure no matter how much acid you take, you can't actually _feel_ your hallucinations.”

 

 “Of course it's the _dog_ he lies about, but not the goddamn _ghost!_ A ghost… I'm talking to a ghost…” Kevin was lost in thought, thinking and rethinking everything that had just happened.

 

 “Yes, I thought we've established this.”

 

 “Oh, I'm _sorry_ I'm too busy being terrified that there is a _ghost_ in my bedroom and having a complete crisis of faith, even as someone who doesn't _have_ a faith anymore, to try to keep up some small talk with said _ghost_.” Kevin snapped back, “This just opens up even more questions! Like, what about the afterlife? What happens then? Is there Heaven and Hell, or, or- this hurts my brain to think about.”

 

 “It's okay, that's what most people say.”

 

 “Most people? You mean you've pulled this on others!” Kevin felt so many strong emotions at once, anger, curiosity, fear.

 

  Connor nodded, “Well, I've talked to other people when they came here, but that was before they remodeled the place and nearly everyone who came here was high out of their mind. I'm not even sure if they realized I'm not alive.”

 

 “What… what are you talking about?”

 

 “You didn't know? This place was abandoned, before they remodeled it. Before it was, I lived here. When I was alive, of course. Got really into drugs, and one day, popped a little too much ecstacy, and here I am.” Connor did a little theatrical bow.

 

  Kevin had somewhat gotten over the fact Connor was a ghost, or at least intrigued enough by what Connor said to be distracted, “...Oh. Well, now I'm curious. Do you mind telling me why you lived in an abandoned building in the first place?”

 

  “Hm, I guess.”

 


	3. 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: detailed description of drug use & overdose, homophobic language/behaviour, character death, domestic abuse (mentioned, not too detailed)
> 
> That's a handful, wow. This chap is nearly 2k words of angst yay. 
> 
> Skip to after ●●● to skip the triggers, it's Connor's backstory, and if anyone wants, just comment and I'll happily sum it up.

  “So everything started when my parents kicked me out. They were extreme Mormons, and I didn't agree with a lot of the Church’s rules. Just before I was supposed to start training for my mission, I told them I didn't want to go and that I wanted to leave the Church. I also told them I was homosexual, which didn't help at all. They were already furious, and that was the last straw. My mother slapped me and told me to leave.”

  


_ “Ma, Pop. I have something to tell you.” my mother looks at me from across the table. My father simply grunts behind his newspaper.  _

_ “Yes dear?” Ma asks. _

_ “I-I want to leave the church,” Pop drops his newspaper, and Ma shoves her chair back and stands up. _

_ “Why- what on God’s green earth could convince you to think you want to do  _ that _? Have you made friends with those lawless hippies?” _

_ “No, this is something I've been thinking about for quite some time now. I disagree with a lot of the church’s beliefs. They treat negroes awfully because of the colour of their skin! That's insane! And also… I-I’m a homosexual.”  _

_ My mother's waterworks start flowing and she walks over to me _ .  _ She grabs me by the chin and pulls me to my feet. She glares at me, and slaps me. My hand ghosts over the light stinging pain in my right cheek. My eyes well up. _

_ “Get out of my house. Now.” she growls. I look towards Pop for support, but he just nods his head, with an icy stare. I pull my jacket off the hook and storm out the door. _

  


_ “ _ That was the last time I ever saw her. 

  


  “I had to sneak into  _ my own  _ house to get my stuff later that night. I packed a backpack and suitcase, then left and stayed with a non-Mormon friend. He let me stay, until I told him the whole reason I was kicked out. He wanted me to get my ‘filthy perverted self’ out of his house.”

  


_ I breath in deep, and raise my knuckles to the door. I knock once. Twice. Three times. The door swings open _

_   “Hey, Connor,” he frowns, “What's the matter?”  _

_   “My parents. They kicked me out. They don't love me anymore, Steve.”  _

_  He pulls me in for a hug, “It's okay, you can stay here with me until you can afford your own place.” _

_   “How? I'm nineteen, and I've never had a single job.” _

_   “I don't know, but I'll help you.”  _

_  I smile.  _

_  A few days later, we’re relaxing on Steve’s couch.  _

_  “So, what's the whole truth? I've known you since fifth grade, I know when you're lying.” Steve says to me. I'm quiet at first, just thinking. I'm grateful for him, for taking me in, even though he didn't know the full story. Really grateful. I find myself wanting to hold him, to hug him, and kiss him, and thank him. I want to tell him, but I'm scared. He's so nice, there's no way he'd kick me out, right?  _

_  “I,” I gulp, I'm terrified, “I like you. Like how a boy is supposed to like a girl.” I stare at the floor, afraid to look at his reaction. _

_  “You…” I look at him, and his eyes are filled with rage, “you're a fag. Leave.” _

_   “But, Steve, no! Why? Why is that such a bad thing!?” There are tears streaming down my face. _

_   “It’s gross. It’s weird and unnatural. If it was normal you'd see it everywhere! I understand why your parents wanted you gone. Now, get your filthy, perverted self out of my house, faggot.” _

_   I grab my stuff, which I fortunately left in my bags and leave, blubbering like a baby. _

_  Like a fag. _

  


   “Eventually I found this place, where there was a couple homeless drug addicts, but at least they didn't care for my religious beliefs or sexuality. All they saw was a lost boy. So I stayed with them, and when I was twenty, I started using. Mostly just pot, and shrooms. Somehow that became ecstasy and LSD. I ended up overdosing on ecstasy.”

  


_ “Come on, kid. Jus’ try it once. If ya’ don't like it I won't make ya’ do it again,” the man tells me. I can't tell how old he is, even though he looks sixty. Everyone here looks sixty, except for the fifty year old. She looks eighty.  _

_  “Okay. What exactly is this, anyway?” I ask. I've got nothing left to lose if something goes wrong anyway.  _

_  “Acid. LSD. Lys-lysergy, somethin’. I dunno.” he hands me the small square of blotter paper. I take it from his shaking hands; whether it's from the cold or drugs, I don't know. I place the paper on my tongue, and forty-three minutes later, I experience the worst trip of my life.  _

  


_  There's people screaming at me, calling me ‘fag’ and ‘fairy’, I see my parents, my mother yelling at me, telling me I'm a disappointment. My father simply nodding in agreement. He is reading the newspaper, ‘Homosexual Behaviour Can Now Be Charged Against If Witnessed In Public’ it says. Underneath the headline is a picture of the man who passed the bill, ‘Steve Blade’. I see the local priest telling me that I'm going to Hell, that I'm going to spend eternity there. My mother slaps me, over and over again, with each slap another insult is thrown. Eventually I become numb to her slaps, but her words hurt just the same. _

_ I come to and the same man is shaking me awake.  _

_  “Hey, kid. That must’a been a shitty trip. Take these, they betta’ calm ya’ down.” _

_  He hands me a small pill, and I swallow it without question.  _

  


_  A few days later, I'm back for more. Within weeks, I'm taking two or three pills at a time, which I learned are ecstasy.  _

  


_  Five weeks later, I'm with the same man. He and I are sharing our stashes of drugs. He's the only one here I trust. I take four ecstasy pills. He gives me a couple more, and I take them, hands shaking. Ten minutes later, I'm slumped over, back against a cold wall. My entire body is tensed up, and I can't move or talk. I can't even see. I feel clammy, cold yet I can feel damp hair sticking to my forehead. My breathing is shallow, and I can hear the man talking, maybe he's yelling, everything sounds distorted. This doesn't feel real. It feels like I'm dreaming.  _

  


_ Then suddenly, it's much too real. I hear an ambulance. And I see it. Why can I see it? _

  


  “You sound so… so comfortable with this,” Kevin broke Connor out of his flashback. 

  


  “Yeah, yeah. I've had a lot of time alone, rethinking that. I'm kinda numb to it, after forty years.” Connor said, even though he thought about it far too much for someone who would have been over it.

  


 “After me, cops started coming here and arresting people who had drugs. Then people stopped living here. They just came and got high, once or twice. Sometimes teenagers would come here on a dare. But most of the time, it was just me. And after they remodeled it, I tried talking to the people who moved here, but they always either left, weren't phased, or were completely boring to pester. But not you, you seem… interesting,”

●●●

“Wow, you've been through a lot. I can't believe you were raised Mormon too, though. How crazy is that?” Kevin smirked at the thought that the ghost-

  


  The ghost. He was talking to a ghost. A ghost told him his life story. 

  


 “Hey, Kevin? You okay? You look like you've just seen a ghost,” Connor tried incredibly hard to not laugh at his own joke, while Kevin just glared at him, “Sorry, that was inappropriate. So, what's your story, huh? Raised Mormon, college age, but not going to BYU? Something’s up with that.”

  


  “Yeah. You see, me and my mission companion, Arnold, were sent to Uganda. After a bunch of events, we were excommunicated from the Church, and I lost all religious faith. We tried staying there for the whole two years, but we ran out of funds after about five months. We still helped the Ugandans, though. We could have stayed longer, but we used the funds to buy food and house repairs and medical equipment for them. We came home, my parents were pissed, understandably. But people are a little more open-minded these days, so they didn't kick me out, even if I am the black sheep of the family now,” Kevin smiled, but Connor could tell Kevin didn't really like talking about this. He knew Arnold was his roommate, so he probably hadn't said any of that aloud since he had to tell his parents. 

  


  “Actually,” Kevin said, interrupting Connor's train of thought, “I used to be a poster boy Mormon. I used to think I could do anything without help. I read scripture every night. I had the whole damn book memorized! I had perfect grades, I did sports, I only had Mormon friends. I was so  _ safe _ then. I thought nothing could hurt me. I thought I would be sent to Orlando for my mission!” Kevin stopped for a second, thinking.

  


   “Uganda was hard, but I wouldn't trade it for anything. I would still be the same stuck-up, obnoxious, self-absorbed kid who had everything handed to him on a silver platter.”

  


  “I was the opposite. I was still disappointing, even if I stayed in the church and was straight. I could never remember scripture. I didn't like going to church. I was friends with one of the three non-Mormons in my school. I rebelled by doing things they'd consider a sin. I told little white lies that they never caught on to. I drank coffee, even though I hated the taste. I even had alcohol when I was with my non-Mormon friend at a non-Mormon party. That night was also the first time I kissed a boy. The boy of course, instantly regretted it, got mad at me, and I went home crying,” Connor gazed sadly, searching the room for something to distract himself with. 

  


  Kevin was about to say something, when.they heard a loud sniffle from the room over, a sniffle that sounded a lot like… crying.

  


  “Is that Arnold? I'll go check on him,” said Kevin. 

  


  He tiptoed out of his room and knocked lightly on Arnold's door, “Just give me a minute!” he called out, voice cracking on every other syllable. 

  


   When Arnold opened the door, he was a mess. His eyes were red and bloodshot, his glasses were on the desk, and there was tissue paper littered all over the floor. There was even wet spots on his star wars t-shirt, “Hey buddy, what's up?” he said, as casually as he could muster in his current state. 

  


 Before Kevin could say anything, Arnold burst back into tears, “It's just- Connor’s story is so sad! H-he didn't deserve that! I'm so glad we aren't Mormons anymore!”

  


  Kevin pulled Arnold in for a hug, and held him for a while, “Hey, it's okay. I agree.” 

  
  Connor stood, watching, and for the first time, in a very long time, he felt at peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the italics were Connor remembering/reliving, he didn't say any of the italics out loud. Thanks for reading!


End file.
